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"_Ach!_ that is true! That is what I said--that I am glad this is Culbertson who catches me. Yes! We must talk!"
Cazi Moto glided to them.
"Bath is ready, _bwana_," said he.
Winkleman puffed out his chest and protruded his great beard.
"This war--foolishness!" he mumbled.
"Yes, we have much to talk about. Nevertheless," said Kingozi with slight embarra.s.sment, "it is necessary that I do my duty according to my orders. And my orders were much like yours--to get the alliance of this M'tela. But I have told him that you are my enemy; and he sent his men with mine to find you; and now, as you can well comprehend, I must----"
But Winkleman's quick comprehension leaped ahead of Kingozi's speech.
"I must play the prisoner, is it not?" he cried with one of his big laughs. "But so! Of course! That is comprehend. How could it be otherwise? I know my native! I know what he expects. I shall be humble, the slave, your foot upon my neck. Of course! Do you suppose I do not know?"
"That is well," said Kingozi, much relieved, "I shall tell him that you are a man of much wisdom and great magic; and that I have saved your life to serve me."
"So!" cried Winkleman delightedly; and departed to his tent and the waiting bath. A few moments later he could be heard robustly splashing in the tent. A roar summoned Cazi Moto.
"Tell your _bwana_ I want _n'dowa_--medicine--understand? Need some boric acid," he yelled at Kingozi. "Eyes in bad shape."
Kingozi ordered Cazi Moto to take over the entire medicine chest; then sent a messenger for M'tela, who shortly appeared.
"This enemy of mine is taken, thanks to your men, oh, King. I have him here in the tent, well guarded."
"How shall we kill him, papa?" inquired M'tela.
"That has not yet been decided," replied Kingozi carelessly. "He must, of course, be taken to the great King of all _Inglishee_."
M'tela looked disappointed.
"In the meantime," pursued Kingozi, "as he has much knowledge, and great magic, I shall talk much with him, and get that magic for the benefit of us both, oh, King. He cannot escape, for my magic is greater than his."
This M'tela well believed, for the reports industriously circulated by Simba anent his magic bone had reached the King, and had not lost in transit.
So when Winkleman came swashbuckling up the hill M'tela was prepared.
The blue-black beard and hearty, deep-chested carriage of the Bavarian impressed him greatly.
"But this is a great _bwana_, papa," he said to Kingozi. "Like you and me."
"This is the prisoner of which I spoke to you," said Kingozi in a loud voice.
Winkleman, a twinkle in his wide eyes, but with his countenance composed to gravity, stepped forward, salaamed, and placed his forehead beneath Kingozi's hand in token of submission. Thus proper relations were established. Winkleman seated himself humbly on the sod, and kept silence, while high converse went forward. At length M'tela departed.
Winkleman immediately plunged into the conversational gap around which, mentally, he had been, impatiently hovering for an hour.
"But this articulation of the _saurus_" he broke out. "What of it?"
"The magic bone," chuckled Kingozi.
"Pouf! Pouf! It resembled much the _cinoliosaurus_, but that could not be."
"Why not?" demanded Kingozi quickly.
"It has been found only in the lias formations of the Jura.s.sic," stated Winkleman dogmatically, "and that type of Jura.s.sic is not here. It is of England, yes; of Germany, yes; of the Americas, yes. Of central Africa, no!"
"Nevertheless----" interposed Kingozi.
"But the _cryptoclidus_--that greatly resembles the _cinoliosaurus_--perhaps. Or even a subspecies of the _plesiosaurus_----"
"Simba," called Kingozi.
"Suh!"
"Bring here the magic bone. The _bwana_ wishes to look at it. No; it is all right. I myself tell you; no harm can come."
Reluctantly Simba produced the bone, now fittingly wrapped in clean _mericani_ cloth, and still more reluctantly undid it and handed it to Winkleman. The latter seized it and began minutely to examine it, muttering short, disconnected sentences to himself in German.
"Now here is what I have said," he spoke aloud. "See. By this curve----"
He broke off, staring curiously into Kingozi's face. The latter sat apparently looking out across the hills, paying no attention to the fact that Winkleman had thrust the bone fairly under his nose. The pause that ensued became noticeable. Kingozi stirred uneasily, turning his eyes in the direction of the scientist.
"Glaucoma!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Winkleman.
Kingozi smiled wearily.
"Yes. I wondered when you would find it out."
"You are all blind?"
"I can distinguish light." Kingozi straightened his back, and his voice became incisive. "But I can still see through eyes that are faithful to me! Make no mistakes there."
"My dear friend; have I not given my parole?" gently asked the Bavarian.
"Beg your pardon. Of course."
"It is serious. You should have a surgeon. But why have you not used the temporary remedy? Of course you know the effect of drugs?"
"I know that atropin is ruin, right enough," said Kingozi grimly.
"But the pilocarpin----"
"Of course. I only wish I had some."
"But you have!" came Winkleman's astonished voice. "There is of it a large vial!"
Kingozi gripped the arm of his chair for a full minute. Then he spoke to Cazi Moto in a vibrating voice.
"Bring me the chest of medicines. Now," he went on to Winkleman, when this command had been executed, "kindly read to me the labels on all these bottles; begin at the left. All, please."